Mad Max: Where Devils Dare To Tread
by Mercedes Aria
Summary: In a world imprisoned in darkness, one drifter brings hope to the survivors.
1. Intro

__

**Once upon a time the world knew happiness and reveled in the hope of the future...**

**But it was a lie...**

**Hope was an illusion. Chaos and anarchy are the future. No one gets out alive...**

_Somewhere over the rainbow  
Way up high,  
There's a land that I heard of  
Once in a lullaby._

_Somewhere over the rainbow  
Skies are blue,  
And the dreams that you dare to dream  
Really do come true._

_Someday I'll wish upon a star  
And wake up where the clouds are far  
Behind me.  
_

_Somewhere over the rainbow  
Bluebirds fly.  
Birds fly over the rainbow.  
Why then, oh why can't I?_

**Mad Max: Where Devils Dare To Tread**


	2. Almost Within Reach

_AN: While waiting anxiously for Mad Max 4: Fury Road to be filmed and released (is ever!), I thought I'd try my hand at continuing the legendary saga of Max Rockatansky. But lo and behold, therewas no category for Mad Max fics! Until on, y'all, we may not need another hero, but we do some Mad Max stories!_

_And also, give the story a chance. No smut. A lot of action, though. And car chases. Gotta have those._

_Disclaimer: Mad Max and related characters are the creation of George Miller and Terry Hayes._

_Story and non-cannon characters are the creation of MercedesAria._

_Lyrics to "We Don't Need A Hero" are by Edguy_.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Almost Within Reach**

**_We are falling - falling to rise... Pain is the guide out of the wastelands... _**

**_We don't need a hero... We are falling - falling to rise..._**

**_No charlatan to show you the light... We don't need a hero..._**

Desolation wasn't just a description of the place, it was also its name. In the past years, a few places like it had emerged, modeled after Bartertown. None were successful. They were nothing more than filthy caverns of waste, crawling with loathsome creatures that preyed upon pathetic renderings of man. Those unfortunate enough to stumbled through these places, moved on quickly, after taking what they wanted- that is, assuming they could find something worth taking.

**_When you wake up in the fire... And your harbor lies in ruins..._**

**_You wonder why the giant has been shot... Fired off down from the sky..._**

**_You plead for explanation... Is it accident or rule?_**

The only thing that set Desolation a part from its decaying sisters was its marketplace. The Marketplace was more successful that its Bartertown predecessor and far more ruthlessly regulated.

In the midst of the controlled chaos of business was a young woman in tattered animal hide clothes. She was hidden in the shadows of the stalls as her immense emerald eyes took in every gory detail of the scene around her. She was young and alone and female, a fatal combination in this place, but for the moment she was not perturbed by this- she was on the prowl.

**_And where is your childhood hero... To drive all the demons away? _**

She shivered in the dampness of the air, pulling her long hair around her shoulders in an effort to keep warm. Her gaze never wavered from their mission until shorter locks of amber tresses fell into her eyes. Lifting a leather-cuffed wrist, she pushed the bangs back and that's when she saw him.

**_What if the light_ _sines in darkness my friend? _**

**_We are falling - falling to rise... Pain is the guide out of the wastelands..._**

**_Indignity is the leader_ _to escort us to fen..._**

**_Where they say the light is endemic..._ _If only I could comprehend..._**

**_Now you're old enough to face it... Oh we don't need a hero..._**

_**No we don't need a hero...**_


	3. Dead Man Walking

_AN: Please read and review. Mahalo! _

_The lyrics to "Bomber" are by David Bowie. _

* * *

**Chapter 2: Dead Man Walking **

**"_All clear," wail the sirens__... Sunshine on the wasteland..._**

**_When the smoke had blown away... There was nothing left to view... _**

**_Except a man, dear Lord, who looked like you..._ **

Twilight encompassed the camp and the cold settled in on its heels. The Marketplace would be closing soon and the supplies needed replenishment. Grumbling to himself, he stood, stretching out his cramped frame, and brushed the dust from his trousers.

After gathering his minimal belongings, he contemplated leaving the fire burning for some other miserable soul to find and take shelter in its heat- he would not be returning to this place again. With a swift kick, sand cascaded over the flames and he did not wait to see if all the embers died.

The Marketplace, he discovered, was even busier in the evening that it was during the day. It made sense to him, however, as darkness gave sanctuary to the dregs of society allowing them to wreak their havoc in anonymity.

He pushed his way past the stalls where merchants reached out to prospective customers and physically grabbed them, trying to force them to buy their wares (the items for sale could hardly be called "goods" for nothing was good any more). He brusquely shrugged off the grips and slapped away hands that attempted to latch onto him.

"Hey!" a hoarse, wispy voice called out as he passed by. "Hey, yous!"

Keeping his eyes straight ahead, he forged on by.

"I was talkin' to yous, stranger!"

He felt a bony clutch sink into his forearm. He turned, coiled to strike, until he saw that the offender was a fragile old man with rotten teeth and a humped decrepit posture. The stranger relaxed slightly.

"Look, mate," he said, trying to disengage the man's hand. "Can't buy anything today. Sorry."

"Oh," the man's clouded gray eyes sparkled with mischief, "yous ain't seen whats I've gots to sells."

"Look, I'm not interested," he pulled against the against the geriatric man, but could not get away- the little old man was not as feeble as he appeared.

"Sees," the old man entreated, dragging the stranger over to his stall. "Sees whats I gots? Yous can't find any finer anywheres." He released the stranger from his trap-like grip and rubbed his grimy hands together in pride.

With great reluctance, he turned to the old man's stall with the intent of making over the man's ware, hoping that would satisfy the goat enough to leave him alone.

"So whats yous think, sonny?" the old man winked, his face shining like an eager child awaiting approval.

"Yeah, they're real ni-," the words died in mid-sentence. What the old man was selling caused the color to drain from his face. The fool was selling girls-young girls. They were chained together, wearing rags for clothes. Many looked diseased, all looked wretched. The sight of them filled him with abhorrence.

"Theys real beauties, eh, mate?" the old man leaned forward, so desperate for affirmation.

The stranger turned angry eyes on the man who shrank back in fear, a bizarre, crooked grin frozen on his wizened visage.

"Pig!" he spat, advancing towards him with unmasked fury in his eyes. Then suddenly he turned on his heel and left.

"Wait!" the old man flung himself down in front of the stranger and clung miserably to one of his mud-caked boots.

The stranger glared down at him.

"Please!" he cried, trembling violently. "This ain't wrong! I'ms doing a good thing!"

The stranger swore and tried to walk away, but the man held fast.

"I ams!" he screamed. "Females can't goes nowheres any mores unless theys married! Too dangerous for 'em not to bes! I'ms helping them- I ams!"

With one brutal kick, the stranger sent the old man tumbling across the ground and into a stall selling rickety furniture.

"Yous knows I'm rights!" was the man's final shriek to the stranger, but his words fell on deaf ears.

He searched the stalls more carefully now, hunting for scrap metals and other odd bits that he could make use of.

Just as he located a stall that appeared to have some useful items a violent skirmish broke out close by. He ignored it until he caught a glimpse of the vulgar old man, who was goading the instigators on.

"Comes on, girlie," he croaked. "Bes a good girl. Fightin' onlys makes it worse."

The stranger's head jerked up and his eyes narrowed. He strided over to the scuffle, his strong gait impeded to a degree by a limp.

Four miscreants were trying to pin down a young girl who was fighting like an enraged feral cat. It was quite a struggle she was putting up, too.

He was impressed, but there was no way she could break away from her assailants- four men, all twice her size in both height and girth.

He approached one of the four, a squat, bug-eyed man, and clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. The man turned slightly, distracted, and tossed a backwards glance over his shoulder. His eyes bulged further out of his skull when he saw the fist speeding at him. A sickening crack was heard as his jaw shattered.

The stranger shoved the man out of his way and set his sights on the next one. By the time he was ready to take on the third man, the remaining two were ready for him. The two hulking brutes grinned apishly at him as they slowly advanced. He reached out for any object that might be within reach. As fortune would allow, his hand closed around a bundle of wires. At the end of the cords was heavy plastic, too badly mangled to tell what it once was.

One of the two beasts suddenly made a dive at him. Effortlessly dodging the human mass, he lassoed the wires around his neck before he could turn around and charge again. His attempt to strangle him was cut short by the boor's mate who grabbed the stranger by the scruff of the neck. Not realizing that the stranger still held onto to the wire bundle encircling his partners neck, the man dragged the stranger backwards several meters. The wires suddenly snapped out of his hands as hands seized his throat. The lowlife in front of him fell to the ground, lifeless, but the one behind him still had plenty of breath in him

Gasping for the air and trying to keep his trachea from being crushed, the stranger struggled to reach the knife concealed in his jacket. But his attacker was unrelenting. It was more than he could take. When the stranger went limp against him, the man released him and watched him slip to the ground, face first. He grinned a rotten-toothed grin. He kicked the stranger for a good luck, causing his victim to roll over onto his back. Never one to pass up the opportunity to scavenge, the victor knelt down to the stranger to search him. He never saw the knife before it slipped in between his ribs.

The stranger rose to his feet and retrieved his dagger, not bothering clean it off before he put it back into his coat.

He scanned the area for the girl, but did not see her. He did, however, see the old man looking very guilty.

In a moment's breathe, he seized the geezer by the neck. The man shook under the stranger's penetrating arctic glare.

"Where is she?" he growled menacingly.

The man shook his head and was slammed against a stall wall.

"I's doing her a good thing!" he declared, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. "I's get her a home!"

"Where IS _SHE_?"

The unspoken threat was evident in the intonation of his voice.

"Overs there," he confessed as he pointed a crooked finger to the southern cluster of booths.

He abruptly dropped the beggar and stepped over his crumpled body. His intent was to release the girl and move on, but when he reached the old man's stall he found, much to his surprise, that the girl was in no need of rescuing. She was, instead, freeing the other girls and urging them on to elsewhere.

He stood there a moment, watching, then, his service unneeded, turned to leave.

"Hey, mate!"

He glanced behind him and saw the girl running after him. He did not stop or slow his pace.

"Come on," she entreated, darting in front of him. "Lemme at least say thanks."

"You're welcome," he said gruffly, trying to get around her.

"I'm Megs," she said, extending her hand to him. "Or Meg. Whichever."

He stopped now and regarded her hand as though it was a lethal weapon.

"I've got to be going," he told her shortly, pushing past her.

"Aw, com'n," she persisted. "I owe you lots."

"No, you don't."

He continued to weave his way through the Marketplace. Knowing he was being followed, he spun on his heel to face her.

"You're not going away, are you?"

Meg smiled slightly, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"No."

He sighed.

"At least tell me your name," she said.

He regarded her warily.

"No."

Then something dangling from her belt caught his eye.

"What's that?" he demanded, grabbing for the object.

She deftly avoided him, dancing out of his grasp.

"So I've got something you want, huh?"

He frowned. "Maybe."

"Fancy that," Meg retorted saucily. "Whatcha need with a spark plug?"

"What do you need with it?" he shot back.

Meg cocked an eyebrow.

"Let's swap," she suggested, take the plug from her belt.

It was the stranger's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"I don't think so," he answered dourly.

"Your name for the plug," she continued. "That's all."

"My name for that?" he sounded skeptical and suspicious.

"Yep."

"That's a foolish trade."

"It's mine to make."

He studied her thoughtfully for a moment. At length, he spoke.

"Max."

Meg smiled fully and tossed him the spark plug. As he turned to leave, she called out once more.

"I know where you can get more like that."


	4. Desolation's Depths

_AN: Mab, many thanks for the uplifting reviews. ;)_

_Lyrics to "Five Years" are by David Bowie. _

* * *

**Chapter 2: Desolation's Depths**

**_Pushing thru the market square, so many mothers sighing..._**

**_News had just come over, we had five years left to cry in..._**

**_News guy wept and told us, Earth was really dying..._**

At the edge of the Marketplace stood a dingy gray tent, lonely and abandoned. Night had settled fully in. Lights from Desolation flickered all around but did not seem to reach the pergola.

Meg sat on the top of a broken television set, holding a flashlight and watching Max sort through mounds of old metal junk bits.

"Whaddya need all this rubbish for?" she asked nonchalantly.

"None of your business," he replied, motioning for her to bring the light closer.

"Sorry," Meg muttered.

As she shined the light on the clutter of mechanical parts, Max looked at her and shrugged. He finished looting, secured his bounty in a worn leather shoulder bag, then turned to Meg.

"All this stuff just been lying around?"

Meg wrinkled her nose at him.

"Yeah. I watched the place for three days before coming in. Never saw anybody."

Max looked even more sullen than usual. A hand went over his mouth as he scanned the area. He looked perturbed.

Meg tucked the flashlight into her belt so that she would not have to carry it any longer.

"Guess no one has much use for old car parts anymore-"her voice trailed off as her gaze locked onto something under the table Max was standing by.

Following her stare, Max found what had silenced her- there was a foot sticking out from under the table. They had not been able to see before Meg had lowered the light to waist level.

Meg knelt down by the table.

"Well, he certainly doesn't need 'em," she reported, lifting a corner flap of the table covering and dropping it quickly.

This news was of no consolation to Max. His frown deepened.

Meg stood up again and looked to her companion.

"Strange," Max said, thinking aloud. "Not much, if anything, was taken..."

"Yeah, it is strange," Meg agreed. She felt Max tense beside her. "What is it?"

He didn't answer. With one hand tight around his bag, he took hold of Meg's arm.

"What are you doing?" she asked, but he offered no explanation.

"Move," he commanded, half-dragging her out the tent.

Silently, Meg obeyed, too afraid not follow orders.

No sooner had they stepped outside that a mighty roar was heard. It sounded like it came from a hungry animal.

The pair turned to back to the tent, Max instinctively stepped in front of Meg.

The sound had, indeed, come from a sort of animal- a mutant man, monstrously large and slightly green. Veins stood out everywhere on his hairy body and his face was caged in a wire. He was easily three times Max's size. And armed. In one massive hand hung a long titanium chain. Razor blades had been affixed to the end- it was a modern cat-of-nine-tails.

Meg knew they were in serious trouble and had little faith that even Max, who had defeated four men alone, could take on this one successfully. Still, she tried to quell her trembling and put on a brave front.

Max defiantly stared the animal down, which only served to outrage the creature more. It suddenly lunged at Max with its chain whip swinging wildly.

Meg saw little of occurred after that. She hit the dry earth hard, landing squarely on her right shoulder. The flashlight disconnected from her belt and rolled a distance away from her.

Struggling to slide over to it, pained coursed up her neck. She reached the light and rolled over, shining it in front of her to see the fight.

Max was down and didn't appear to be breathing. The creature stood over Max, but turned on her when the light fell on it.

Meg gasped as he aimed his weapon at her. Involuntarily, she raised her uninjured arm over her face and stifled the scream that arose in her throat. The expected blow never came. Instead, a thunderous crack was heard. Meg opened her eyes and shone the light into a haze of smoke. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she tried to see through it. The wind pushed the smoke in her direction, filling her lungs as she inhaled. Through the haze, a dark figure moved towards her. She cringed-there was no time to run.

When smoke dissipated, Meg saw the massive, dead body of the masked beast before her. Standing over her, bloodied and exhausted, was Max with his hand extended towards her. In his other hand was a double-barrel shotgun.

Meg stared at the gun Max held, wondering where it had come from. Then she focused on his outstretched hand and crinkled her face into a look of disdain.

"You didn't take _my _hand when I offered it to you," she snorted. "But now you expect me to take yours?"

He rolled his eyes skywards.

"Suit yourself," he shrugged and began to walk away.

Meg bit her bottom lip.

"Wait!"

Max stopped and looked over his shoulder.

"Maybe I could use a hand up," she admitted uneasily.

With Max's help she rose unsteadily to her feet. Gingerly, she rotated her shoulder trying to determine the extent of the damage. Since the injury was not life-threatening, Meg dismissed the pain, turned to Max, and asked,

"Now what?"

Max regarded her with a veiled look as though he was still trying to determine if he liked her or not. He moved to put the strap of his bag more securely on his shoulder, but the motion caused him to wince in pain.

Meg saw the agony etched into his features. She reached out for him.

"Let me see."

Max said nothing, but let the bag fall to his feet. Then slowly, he sunk to his knees. Meg settled next to him and began to examine the deep gash in his shoulder.

"Ought to have stitches," she murmured. As nasty as it looked, it was only a flesh wound- it would heal.

"It needs to be cleaned," she said, louder so that he could hear her.

Max grunted his acknowledgment. His head slumped forward onto his chest and his eyelids hung heavy.

Meg sighed and looked around at their surroundings. A short distance away were a cluster of shrubs. It wasn't much but it would at least provide some cover.

"Com'n," she tugged at him, trying to bring him to his feet.

Max struggled to stand.

"Lean on me," she instructed.

He did and Meg discovered that he was heavier than she anticipated. They labored over to the bushes where Max heavily collapsed. Meg did the best she could to make him comfortable before she tended to his shoulder. It took some doing for him to escape from the sleeve of his shabby, black leather bomber jacket. His jaw clenched and his teeth ground together as he slipped his arm away from the coat.

For the first time, Meg was able to get a good look at him. He was battered and bruised, scar upon scar was visible on exposed skin, telling the stories of battles and wars. His once handsome face was deeply lined and drawn. Gray streaked dark, dirty hair that was short and looked as though it had been cut with a dull blade. Blue eyes found her green ones, but he looked through her. It was then that Meg noticed his left eye. It was much darker than the right- the azure hue had been replaced by a milky haze and the eyelid drooped noticeably on the outer corner. Meg touched her fingers to her lips when Max focused on her face before closing his eyes. Only his right eye moved and she knew that the left was infected with glaucoma. That was not something she had remedy for.

Refocusing on the task at hand, Meg investigated the plants nearby hoping to find something she could use. A smile kissed her lips when she uncovered bruisewort, hiding under one the shrubs. Meg built a small fire and took a water flask from her belt. She scrounged for a dish suitable for boiling water, but found nothing. She decided to leave the water in its container and simply hold the flask over the fire to boil the liquid inside. Ripping a length of material from the underside of her skirt, she laid it over the top of the uncorked flask. Carefully, she pulled the leaves from the bruisewort and nestled them in a pile on the cloth. Meg stood over the fire holding the carafe, using the leather cuff she wore on her wrist to shield her hand from the flames. Once the foliage had sufficiently wilted, she removed the bottle from the fire and let it cool.

Wrapping the cloth and leaves into a bundle, Meg took the poultice to Max and carefully applied it to the gash on his shoulder.

Max sucked air in through his teeth as the hot pack contacted his skin. He groaned in pain.

"Don't fidget," she told him gently, then explained, "This'll help your shoulder heal."

He didn't fight her and, after awhile, he spoke.

"Where're you from?"

The question caught Meg so off-guard that it took her a moment to respond.

"Top End," she said at length.

Max opened his good eye and watched her circumspectly.

"North?" he repeated curtly. "That's where most folks are going. Or want to go."

She said nothing.

"What are you doing here?"

"Got separated from my family."

Max bristled when she mentioned family.

"You wound up all the way down here from there? I don't believe you."

Meg shrugged. "What you believe is your business. My father always patrolled the perimeter of the region where we lived looking for travelers who were searching for Oasis, or Paradise as it was once called. When we got word of a caravan got lost on its way to Oasis during the Wet, my father went to look for them. I went with him. We got separated in a storm. I found Desolation. Then I found you." She shot him a dirty look. "Now I'm tryin' to get back."

Rather than admit that her story was plausible, he growled tenaciously,

"I found you."

Meg snorted derisively and went to reheat the poultice. When she returned, she found that he had fallen into a fitful sleep. She crouched next to him and reapplied the bundle.

_Who are you, Max?_ She wondered to herself. _Where have you been and where are you going?_


	5. Vagabond

_AN: Well, the first of the year has come and gone and I haven't finished Ashes of Eden which means, of course, no new updates here. I feel incredibly guilty, but school and work have just eaten up my time, especially as I am getting closer and closer to being done with school completely. _

_But I wanted to let you all who have read and so kindly reviewed that I still fully intend to complete Where Devils Dare to Tread and so here is a briefinterlude with insights into Meg._

_I also wish I could respond to each and every review, but to do so would take pages. So let me first extend my gratitude to everyone who had reviewed and continued to review even though I have not updated in ages. Next, I am very pleased to see some other Mad Max stories popping up- lovely to see. And lastly, there are a few issues in the reviews I'd like to address._

_Meg may seem very cardboard at the moment, but give she will flesh out much more later one- after all she's only just been introduced and what fun is a character who's entire person and life is exposed in the first few chapters? Though I do know exactly who she is, what she will become, and what her relationship to Max will become, that's all something you will have to discover along with Max. ;c) Oh, and if she seems too good to be true... well, few are who are they seem to be at first glance. Perhaps Max might like to look at this one a bit a harder..._

_Romance? Yes... No... Maybe so... lol ;c) _

_Sex? Sorry, I don't delve into that in my stories. Suggestions of? If relevant and necessary to the plot- see Pretender: The World is Not Enough: Ashes of Eden for more detail._

_My inspiration is definitely The Road Warrior and its mood is one I hope to continue here. Themes, places, and people from all the movies in the trilogy will be revisited._

_I see some of you caught the Lethal Weapon reference... hehe... Look for more non- Mad Max Mel Gibson references in the future._

_To the one who signed in under Koolishcutie112092: Thanks, lovey. You're a sweetheart._

_Final Note: There is a forum available for this story and fandom._

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**Interlude: Vagabond**

_In a time not so long ago as you might think, my children, the world was a beautiful place..._

A cool breeze swept the flat lands and encompassing the area where Meg kept watch over the strange man called Max. He had fallen into a fitful slumber hours ago, but Meg could not sleep.

_The cities filled with grand building that reached to the heavens bustled with life and energy. Men and women had jobs that they could make a decent living from. There were stores where food and drink lined the shelves and you could buy as much as you wanted and had money for. Children could play outside in the green grass beneath blue skies without fear..._

The breeze kicked up and carried her mother's voice and the story it told away from. Meg sighed as her gaze drifted skyward.

How long had it been since she left home? How long had it been since she had last seen her brothers and sisters standing along the side of the road with tears streaming down their grubby faces as they waved her farewell?

So long ago... They seemed little more than figments of a weary imagination.

_I'm afraid we don't have much more information than this, Megara, my girl. It's what we've pieced together from stories that have been brought to us by the Drifters. You'll just have to use your head to find 'im. We're desperate, Megara- this is our last chance..._

Though her siblings were but distant memories, her father's words seared her brain and reverberated within her mind as though spoken minutes ago. Rumors and urban legends of some great deliver and the murmurings of old men had brought her to this wasted, forsaken place.

_Great deliverer_, she harumphed._ They sent me on a ghost hunt because of the rambling of a bunch of crazy old men. _

The breeze was no longer gentle, but pushy and cold. Meg shivered, glaring darkly at the night sky. A growling in distance caused her to sit up a bit straighter and bring her sight back to the earth. It was an ominous sound, grim and pestilent- one she knew she had heard before, but could not place.

As the sound grew louder, the sense of danger in the air increased to insurmountable levels. It was nearly upon them when Meg identified the noise and grabbed the sleeping man beside her, shaking him violently.

"Max!"


End file.
